BTC 63: Onslaught reborn into the masses
Check space for thirteen and one. Early to rise and early to lay eyes on prying flies. Buzzing corner to counter and down and along the aisles. Onslaught of the masses as flash bulbs kick it into gear in front of the doors. Celebrate with a porcelain birthday cake.
Crack the skull and clean up the mess. Mulder's head is one no longer intact. Two and bits of pieces into the bin. And that's how the new rings in. Swing that door wide open and watch the flood swim in.
Modulus and the divider split fumbles on fingers tripping over buttons. Quarters to half and counting the numbers between the gaps. Oh for the numbers do ring up merrily quick. Faithful pencil and paper brigade thankfully stand by with pockets and coins at the tongue-dipping ready. Statues, figures of action, heads on bobble and all sorts of licorice between.
Counter space on premium with hands and bags moving across, shooting left to right and back again. Hours on and hours on and hours on the hours don't stop moving to the beat that keeps on grooving. Into the wild and the frenzy is a pick up truck spilling enthusiasm all over the highway.
Plans, blue prints, shouts from the roof tops. Shelling the sells from high and low and the results speak in high English tones sipping tea and eating away at cucumber sandwiches. Glorious as they say.
Soon Van
Saturday, 25 August 2007 - 23:29
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» Tracking down the non-existent
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Previous entries on Occupied
- RTP 17: Clocking off
- RTP 16: Strapping down nine thousand
- RTP 15: Feeding from the trough
- TNC 11: Fighting in a swivel arm rest
- RTP 14: Floating reds on whites and greys
- TNC 10: Hearing the wrong voices
